Photo by John Towner
So I’ve been back a few weeks now. Did I mention I went to Europe? Anyway, gotta please the fans so thought I better debrief properly from my trip. What better way to internally process my deeply soul-changing experiences than to write them down alongside terribly irrelevant gifs from various rom coms?
Classic attention seeker.
Anyway for 14 days of my trip Jenny from the Block and myself took a #contiki tour of Europe. Now of course I know what you’re thinking. I don’t fit the general stereotype of people who go on contiki because a) I’m not a lad and b) I have no intention of drinking my entire body weight in shots named after various movie characters.
So I sold my soul to Contiki for 14 long very long days. It was apparent from day one that the only way our guide got payed was by repeatedly dropping the phrase “contiki family” and #noregrets over the bus’s microphone as if he were some kind of slam poet. #cocochanel
First stop: Paris, the city of love. First of all it should be called the city of well-trained street vendors who convinced me that in fact I did need twelve small Eiffel tower keyrings for 5 euros.
Mainly I just pretended I was Blair Waldorf and ate frightfully expensive and pretentious macarons that I ordered in fluent French from some chateau-looking patisserie.Didn’t go into the Louvre as apparently the Mona Lisa is small and I’d forgotten my glasses anyway.
Also I have zero appreciation for art. Just saying. Seen one painting, seen them all. I seemed to be much more pre-occupied with mocking the models boys on our trip wearing Tommy Hilfiger and taking pictures with Ferraris #ferraricalifornia
France is pretty there’s no denying it. But I’m not gonna go on about it. Just see my Insta for more details.Also spend 0.5 of a second pretending to be Nicole Kidman outside the Moulin Rouge. I’m sad to report no Ewan McGregor was to be found.
Next was Nice. Except we didn’t stay in Nice of course. We stayed a 25 minute train ride from Nice in a 3 star hotel that didn’t have working power sockets or plates for breakfast. Not that I’m complaining.
The beach was stunning. Of course I wasn’t gonna pay for a private sun lounger like #ferraricalifornia did so instead I lay on my a4 travel towel getting pebbles in unthinkable places and staring at old French topless women. And taking polaroids.
The water was also freezing like most beaches I guess. Except Australia. But it did feel like we were swimming in the most luxorious place in the world. In fact, #ferrariclaifornia told me if I put my head under the water, it “sounded like diamonds.” Yep, because the girl in cotton on bathers knows what diamonds sound like.
That night, we went to dinner and I fell in love with a very beautiful, very French, Celine Dion singing piano player. Unfortunately so did the eight other girls on my table.
It’s at this point I’d like to introduce a girl who became a close associate on the trip. I might even say friend if she’s willing to admit that she did in fact ruin the tip of my bobbi brown lipstick on the our first night in Nice. #birthdaylipkitpls
I’ll call her Ruby. Because that’s her name. The first thing you need to know about Ruby is that one time she flashed an entire swimming pool. No context needed. There may or may not have been an olympic swimmer in the crowd. Watching her specifically. Whoops.
Ruby and I along with Jenny from the Block, #ferraricalifornia and the rest of the Tommy Hilfiger crew went salsa dancing that night at a questionable bar with a hot tub along arguably the dodgiest bit of the French Riviera.
The only way I can describe the French salsa dancing is that it was like watching someone try to make a baby with clothes on. We left promptly.
I better review our ‘special #noregrets contiki family stopover’ at the Contiki Chateau in the wine region.
Going to a 16th century chateau was high on my list of typical tourist crap I wanted to do.
But the chateau owned by Contiki turned out to be a little less french hogwarts and a little more like french prison.
And that’s my review.
Just like the chateau, grossly underwhelming.
Moving on. In beautiful France I had my first gelato of the trip. And my second. And third. It was hot.
Anyway to sum up. Piano players, gelatos, beach and macarons: good. Salsa dancing, chateaus, street-vendors and Ferraris: bad.
All in all, France: beautiful.
Or as the French would say: baguette.